


cigarettes and morning affairs

by harrystaco



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Death, Drabble, M/M, not an eating disorder but harry rarely eats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:17:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2609879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrystaco/pseuds/harrystaco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis can only pretend not to notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cigarettes and morning affairs

**Author's Note:**

> this was just something that's been on my mind for a while and I know it's short but it's midnight and I'm tired so.
> 
> Just edited this again (February 8th, 2016)... so it's been a while.

The sun shines through the transparent curtains, filling the room with an alluding glow. It hits the empty pillow beside him and in a matter of seconds his eyes are fluttering open, eyelashes damp with the residue of sleep. The bed is empty.

Harry pushes down the disappointment that rises inside of him. But it's no different than any other morning. He's gotten quite used to waking up alone. Most days, Louis leaves for work long before he wakes up and sometimes he doesn't come home until Harry is fast asleep, but somehow Harry still feels him when the bed dips and Louis' arm the slides around his waist. For the sake of not burdening Louis with anymore shit than he already deals with, he pretends not to care.

Harry rolls over in the crisp, thin sheets, nuzzling into the pillow and inhaling Louis' sleepy scent. He reaches over to his nightstand and grabs the almost empty pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out and lights it with one of the many lighters scattered atop his mahogany nightstand. He takes a long drag before resting his head back on his pillow and staring up at the chipped paint on the ceiling.

When his weak limbs finally listen to his mind and climb out of bed, he ignores the spots of blood on Louis' side of the bed and wastes the sheets. He doesn't make breakfast that morning.

 

The thing is, Louis knows that Harry is suffering. Their relationship puts a strain on his mental state and sometimes he becomes unattached to reality. He stare blankly at the walls for hours, just waiting for the sky to turn dark when he knows Louis will eventually come home.

He can see the way that Harry's one bright green eyes haved dulled, glazed over in a thin film of emotional distress. Louis can see the way he has permanent worry lines sketched into his skin and the frown lines by his mouth when he goes to kiss him. He's only getting older but it's Louis that's making it worse.

He lives for the moments when he can come home and have dinner with Harry. When they can afford more than stale ramen noodles and frozen peas. He lives for the moments when he can take Harry out to a nice restaurant maybe once or twice a monthand order him as many bottles of wine that he wants. He lives for the moments when Harry's eyes, if even just for a second, become that much brighter. He lives for the moments when Harry smiles at him like he's the best damn thing in the world, even though they both know deep down; he's the worst thing that could have happened to Harry.

And when Louis realizes he's selfish for not letting Harry go, he pretends not to notice.

 

2:17 am. Louis wipes the blood from his bottom lip. He hates when Harry sees him like this, doesn't want him to make that disapproving face. He doesn't want to see Harry's tears as he pats Louis' bloody lip or ices his bruised eye.

He slugs off his heavy jacket and leaves it on the floor before toeing off his shoes and sliding into the warm bed.

The moon is bright tonight, flooding into their room and ghosting around them like a fog blanket. Louis can see Harry's bare skin from where the blanket is fallen down below his elbow. He's shirtless, with a pair of loose gray sweats on. His skin is almost translucent.

Louis lies down beside him in their small queen bed and wraps his arms around Harry's lithe waist, pulling the smaller boy into his chest. He's much thinner than Louis remembered from the last time he held Harry late into the night and lathered his tight skin with loving kisses. HarryMs hip bones stick out just a little too far, his collar bones press against his skin like knives and his spine is so prominent that he can fully see each individual knob.

Guilt washes through his body and he rests his chin on Harry's head, closing his eyes and resting his hand on the jut of his ribs. He feels sick when he doses off but tries to find comfort in the warmth that Harry exhausts.

He pretends not to notice.

 

Harry wakes up alone again. The bed is still dipped from the curve of Louis' body and he rolls into it, feeling the warmth that is still radiating from the blankets. The scent of bacon flurries through the air and his stomach clenches with hunger.

Harry usually has a cigarette and coffee for breakfast.

After pushing himself up and wincing at the way his bones ache and crack warily, he pads over to the broken dresser in the corner of the room and looks in the mirror.

He's smaller, so much so that he barely recognizes the sharp cheek bones and prominent jaw he sees in the glass. His eyes are sunken in and his skin looks sickeningly pale. He wonders what people think when they see him, if they can tell by the grayness of his eyes that he's in love with someone who can only tear him apart, without being able to put him back together.

He pulls on a ratty old Temple University sweatshirt and walks down the creaking stairs. He listens to the walls settle and the sound of sizzling from the kitchen.

When he sees Louis standing at the stove in his jeans and an old tee making breakfast, he realizes that it's the first time he's smiled in a long time by the way his skin is tight and aches at the pull of his lips.

 

Harry's lips are drier than he remembers but Louis still kisses them anyway and runs his hands through his matted curls. Harry's flushed and panting, his chest rising and falling as Louis pulls his cock out and rolls out beside him.

Louis pretends not to notice the fact that he's barely skin and bones.

 

Louis comes home at 1:13 am and decides to take care of his probably fractured rib with an ace bandage and a heating pad while he lays down beside Harry. Harry doesn't move around or cuddle into him like he usually does. He doesn't sniffle or let out his whistly snores.

He's still and when Louis wraps his arms around his bare waist at 2:28, his skin is colder than usual.

And as a tear threatens to leak from his eyes, he pretends not to notice.


End file.
